


House of Strangers

by Calesvol



Category: Doctor Strange (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Venom (Comics), Venom (Movie 2018), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2019-08-02 18:04:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16310075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calesvol/pseuds/Calesvol
Summary: Nineteen year old Eddie Brock had it all: an internship, the girl of his dreams, and a smooth course into the future. Yet, after scandal hits him, he's left with nothing. Nothing except a strange new place to call home and the alien symbiote to cause havoc along with it.





	1. Chapter 1

Warning(s): T, physical assault

* * *

“Wake up, son. This is private property, and you’re not allowed to be here.”

It was like being in those flying dreams. On top of the world, all when it suddenly comes crashing down. Eddie blinked blearily at the flash-bright flashlight being shone in his face, newspaper that had been clumsily arranged over him like a blanket scattering as the grime- and soot-stained teenager stumbled to stand from the refuge of an abandoned refrigerator box sagging from the chilly midnight rains. He could swear a rat squeak at the disturbance, raising his hands in pacification. The blond felt so filthy that he’d forgotten what it felt like to be clean.

“Hey, officer—can’t ya cut a guy some slack? ‘s a fuckin’ alleyway,” Eddie groused groggily, blinking owlishly as he finally stood, the picture of degeneracy. From the most least expected of subjects. Not what you’d expect from a middle America college jock.

The officer who had addressed him rose from his genuflection and shone the light back on Eddie who squeezed his eyes shut reflexively. “Do I know you?” Eddie froze at that. Wait—Morrison? This was Michael’s father, his former roommate and fellow quarterback at Empire State. Flipping his hood up defensively, he bowed his head and strode swiftly down the alleyway.

“No, you don’t,” he answered softly once he was out of earshot, stuffing his hands in his hoodie’s pocket. So, where to now? As his pace slowed, it was only when he realized that Officer Morison wasn’t in pursuit of him that he felt like he could relax. The sky was dark and starless, save for the odd airplane likely sourced from Hudson International. It was a beautiful night, despite how miserable and hungry he was.

This wasn’t what you’d think would become of Edward Brock, once the star quarterback of Empire State University. A top mark student, what was his downfall, you’d ask? Foul play, that’s what. When he’d forged an internship just fresh after switching his degree to journalism, he’d started dating Anne Weying: a beautiful African-American girl and law student he was over the moon for. And she was crazy about him, too. Thing was, her father was skeptical about him. Nothing drastic, but he couldn’t cop on Mr. Weying for wanting to make sure whoever she dated was the right kind of guy. That’s when they’d discovered the forged internship, and it’d been reported to ESU.

Literally overnight he lost his internship, his girl, and his future. It was so bad that his dad wouldn’t speak with him either, let alone his older sister, Mary. It was like he ceased existing from that point on the scandal was so bad.

So, there he was: nowhere to live after being kicked out of the dorms, and no friends to turn to. A nineteen-year-old with no future.

Christopher Park in Greenwich Village always seemed to have something for him. Since becoming homeless officially as of a month ago, he’d discovered it was something like a hub for people like him. If you wanted a gig to temporarily fill your stomach for the day, it was where you could find odd jobs. Mostly illegal and unglamorous work, but he’d learned to run with it, literally. Being a drug runner wasn’t exactly a conscionable job, but he had to do what he could to get by.

Finding the right bench where she always promised to be, Eddie nudged a human-shaped morass spanned along it, asleep. “Hey, Maria, ya awake? I’m kinda in a bind. Got busted by the damn Fuzz again.”

The woman in question stirred, drawing her tarp over her shoulders like a cape as she sat up and gave room for Eddie to sit. “Hm? What’s up with you, Eddie?” she asked, no sign of irritation in her voice. “You looking for a job?” It was clarified once she realized why he was there, coughing raspily. Thin, bird-like features were dragged by exhaustion, but she never seemed to mind. Hell, she was something of a maternal figure for him.

He nodded sheepishly, pride dashed to pieces at having to admit as much. He hated being dependent on anyone, even if Maria was a tried and true friend and always willing to help out. She smiled kindly and fished through her ragged jeans for a small slip of paper. “Just go to the back of this deli. It’s just up the street, and you can’t miss it. You’ll get a good meal that ought to help you out. That sound good enough to you, Eddie?”

Eddie took the crumpled post-it note and squinted at it beneath the dim light of a nearby lamppost. At the insistent growl of his stomach, he nodded. “Thanks, Maria. You get back to sleep, alright?” The woman flashed him a grin with missing teeth, but it didn’t matter. She was a better friend and maternal figure than anyone else he’d met before. In the longest time, really.

As he left the small square to leave Maria to her rest, he pocketed the slip of paper in his worn and dirtied jeans and set towards the aforementioned deli under the cover of night. When he came to the dark and empty windowfront, the blond sighed but noticed a light on over a side door. He strode towards it, almost tripping over wet debris, but caught himself and knocked. It swung open on creaky hinges to a gruff-looking Italian man smoking a Cuban cigar. He looked loaded.

“You the one Mikey said would come?” the man asked curtly, Eddie blinking in confusion. Scoffing in disgust, he added, “The one that fuckin’ woman in the park spoke to Mikey about. You him? Mentioned you did this kinda shit a few days ago.” So, he was making something of a reputation for himself? That was pretty cool, he supposed. At least he was known for being something more than just a fuck up.

“Yeah, I’m yer guy,” Eddie said with a cocksure smirk. The man grunted in reply and shoved a parcel in in his hands. Small, but he knew what it was. A few grams of good meth was worth dozens of dollars, maybe more. It was like making him deliver a couple of gold blocks to someone. “The, uh—destination. ‘s on the paper, right?”

“Yeah. You screw it up and you’re a dead man, got it? Hell, I’ll toss your Barbie blond ass in the Hudson _myself_ if you fuck this up.” Eddie nodded and took a few steps back.

“Right, uh—I’d better get goin’.” The door slammed shut without a second thought in his face.

“Nice meetin’ you, too, pally,” Eddie sarcastically quipped under his breath as he shoved the parcel in his hoodie pocket. That way it wouldn’t be as obvious when he made the delivery. The least of which he knew was on Bleccker Street or somewhere nearby. It was like the easy ‘A’ you made as a kid for answering the right question.

The beginning of the walk seemed peaceable enough. In the wake of mass gentrification and commercialization, Greenwich Village had grown more upscale in recent years—which translated to more cops to watch out for someone like him. Sure, maybe it was aesthetically pleasing, but it sure as hell didn’t do him any favors. But as long as he wasn’t disturbed that night, he couldn’t complain. Aside from a few other pedestrians and night owls, the streets were otherwise deserted. And he liked it that way.

Continuing on his way, he made a mental check to which way Bleccker street was. Stopping to squint at the street signs on the corner, he was interrupted by a harsh tap on the shoulder. “The hell--?” he queried aloud, turning on his foot before he was gob smacked by the impact of a fist adorned with brass knuckles. Eddie reeled from the impact, numb for the pain surged and he spit up a wad of blood and saliva. “Fuck was that for?!”

A man at least twice his size, ruddy and bald and tattooed to the nines smirked ribaldly at him. “I saw that. You have Chris’ supply. You one of his drug runners? Hand over what you have and maybe I won’t make this worse.” By his Russian accent, it was clear—this mook was with the Russian mob. From the shadows did two more equally burly men flank the other, cruel and beady eyes sizing him up opportunistically.

Eddie made a face and spit up a final loogie. “Yeah, I’m gonna have’ta pass. Don’t you all have your boss’ cock to suck or somethin’?” he asked, probably imbibed with too much frat boy arrogance. What little of it remained, at least. This caused the one at the right of him to lunge forwards and knee him hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

Though they were raring for a fight, out of the corner of his eye did he see a cop car flash its lights but not the sirens, rolling towards them at a deliberate speed like a lion stalking to chase down hyenas. Sucking in a stertorous breath, Eddie clutched his stomach and took off at a mad sprint. Thank God his muscles hadn’t atrophied in his time away from football!

Sprinting as fast as he could manage, eyes and lungs burning, he broke into a long-stride run down Bleccker Street proper while the cop car gave true chase, them and the thugs hot in pursuit. Desperately did he look for something—a dumpster, a box, anything!—before someone hissed to him.

“Hey, over here!”

Eddie stopped and blinked dumbly, before a small door that fed into a ritzy white mansion opened and an auburn-tressed young woman urged him towards her. Though it was completely left-field, and he was bewildered, his survival instinct spurred him to dash towards the open egress that he dove towards like a touchdown. The girl was smart enough to slam the door shut behind her, he sprawled inelegantly on the floor while the girl giggled at him.

“You look ridiculous, you know,” she quipped cheekily, Eddie realizing the state of himself. That, and his complete lack of composure before a girl much prettier than he realized with a much better look. Aside from her, it was like he’d stumbled into an old-world museum. Flushing from embarrassment, Eddie slowly stood up and marveled at what he saw.

“Yeah, uh—sorry ‘bout that. Thank, though, and—shit, I, uh… I’m Eddie. Eddie Brock.” He tripped over his words, clearing his throat before coughing through his blush.

“Wanda. Wanda Maximoff,” the girl returned in greeting, a smile spanning her dark olive complexion. However, both were interrupted when an ethereally pale woman almost floated in descent through the cavernous showroom of artifacts, peering at the pair.

“Wanda? What was all that ruckus?” an airy, demure voice asked of the girl.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Strange—I mean, Clea. This is Eddie. He was on the run from some goons and needed help.”

Eddie awkwardly bobbed his head in greeting, unsure of what to do with himself. “’m real sorry, uh—Mrs. Strange. I’ll get outta your hair. Coast should be clear, an’ all.” Fuck, how did he go from being a street rat to dealing with a pair of pretty and posh ladies? Not that it’d be bad in some contexts, but— Shit!

“You’re homeless,” Clea deduced sympathetically, worry creasing her brow. “Please, you can stay. I’ll speak with my husband after he returns from business in Tibet, but I think he’ll be fine with it. You’re not exactly the first stray we’ve picked up.” With a knowing eye did her gaze travel to Wanda, the brunette poking her tongue out playfully that Clea giggled at. “Wanda, be a dear and make him feel at home? We’ll get him settled and I’ll put on some tea.”

Eddie was still reeling by the sudden turn of events, swallowing down the lump in his throat and blinking in disbelief. After Clea left the two, Wanda nudged his arm. “You still here?” she prodded gently, Eddie startling some.

“Huh? Oh, uh—yeah, sorry. Jus’ tryin’ to process all this, I guess.” Standing there, the pain from before ebbed and throbbed in his ear, forcing himself to remain composed. His mind was still catching up since getting decked across the face.

“I’m going to get some things. Stay here until I come back,” Wanda said in flourish before suddenly disappearing, Eddie wheeling back a step.

“Wait, wait wait—did she just? Fuck, I’m goin’ crazy. This place even in the real world?” Though, at least it was warm. And no one was trying to slug him across the pavement, so he had that going for him.

**_Eddiiiiieeeeeeeeeeee—_ **

“Wha’? Who—” Eddie’s gaze ranged in confusion in the dusky dim of the gallery, cautiously flitting between artifacts until a glass vessel on a stand practically called out to him. Inside, a writhing morass of inky goop rose to greet him.

**You can hear us? _Eddieeeee_ —let us go!**

The blond eyed the being skeptically. “Y’know, that sounds like the type’a thing someone locked up for a good reason would tell’a a guy like me an’ thinkin’ they’re easily duped. Which—yeah, I’m not that guy.”

A face manifested on the entity, Eddie’s brows furrowing in consternation as he peered closer, the symbiote craning until their reflections nearly matched. Opaque white eyes opened wide, a toothy mouth splitting beneath. Until it sunk and became crestfallen. **…We’re not bad. We’re kept here against our will, Eddie.**

A pang of sympathy echoed in his chest. Oh. That sounded hauntingly familiar, almost mirroring his own situation. Eddie’s lips pursed uncertainly and he glanced over his shoulder for any sign of Clea or Wanda. “Alright, say I do let you out. Promise you won’t turn that on its head? I gotta know I can trust you.”

 **We promise!** the symbiote chirped, smiling toothily at him. Though Eddie was still dubious, he began silently appraising the vessel. It looked simple enough to open, the symbiote crowding at one of the corners, an inky appendage pointing urgently and eagerly at it. **It’s right here, Eddie!**

Swallowing uncertainly, Eddie glanced one more time over his shoulder before unclipping the end of the glass vessel open, falling noisily open. Eddie flinched and a stab of anticipation raced his spine, but no one else was there. He straightened, breathing out a sigh of relief.

That was, until he felt something massive loom over him. Spooking and nearly tripping over a vase on the floor, Eddie yelped out before being caught mid-fall. Brought back to his feet, the symbiote loomed over him and grinned. “So, uh—there’s a door. You probably wanna get goin’, right?” the young man reminded, sweat beading his brow.

Though, its grin only grew wider and toothsome as it cornered Eddie, towering over him while his heart galloped in his chest. **Thank you, _Eddie_ ,** it rumbled with all the smugness of a jungle cat. Leaning down, its grin shrunk and eyes seemed to grow hooded, Eddie stock-still. Instead of biting his head off like he’d feared, instead, moist and slippery lips were pressed to his own chastely, an undercurrent of passion searing beneath. But, it was palpable. He wasn’t some fucking virgin, after all.

Before he had time to process it, the massive presence slipped away and he heard the click and close of the door he’d come through, staring dumbfounded at it and trying to quantify what had just occurred. A massive… _Thing_ just fucking _kissed_ him after he freed it. Belatedly, he rushed back from where it’d escaped and clicked the vessel’s trap shut. Sighing in relief, he wandered amid the rest of the gallery, still mentally stupefied.

“This place is’a a fuckin’ madhouse,” he groused under his breath, the kiss finally registering with his cheeks tinged a hot scarlet. “And—th’ fuck was all _that_?!” He scrubbed his lips with his sleeve, trying to be disgusted, except—he wasn’t. Just indignant. And, God…what if Wanda had seen it?

“Eddie?”

Eddie spun around, almost knocking into a bookshelf and upsetting its tomes. “Whoa. Almost gave me a fuckin’ heart attack. Th’ hell is this place, Wanda?”

Wanda studied him quizzically before she gave a quick look around. “Hm? Oh, it’s the Sanctum Sanctorum. It’s the base of operations of the Sorcerer Supreme.”

Eddie just gaped at her dumbly. “The what-y _what_? Is there a ‘Weird shit for Dummies’ I can read? Cus’ I don’t know what the fuck any’a of that is.” Backpedaling after realizing his initial rudeness, he cleared his throat softly. “…Sorry. I’ve jus’ had’a real tough time lately. Didn’t mean t’take it out on you, Wanda.”

Wanda couldn’t help but snicker at him. “Trust me, I wasn’t offended. Besides, the tea’s ready. You want some?”

Eddie nodded, but then balked when he appraised himself. Alien residue notwithstanding, he tugged at the hem of his hoodie and glanced down further before smiling mirthlessly at Wanda. “Y’sure? Pretty sure I’m caked in enough dirt an’ stuff to build a couple’a sandcastles, at least.”

Wanda made a face. “Yeah, that’s true. Clea said that can wait, though. If she wasn’t sure you were fine as is, you probably wouldn’t be here.” Her green eyes glinted with a kind light, something that put Eddie at ease for the first time that night.

“…Alright. Y’know, I guess tea doesn’t sound half bad. Not that I’m really the type for it. Unless you’ve got some really watered-down coffee you can up and call tea for kicks,” Eddie joked with a snort, Wanda grinning and elbowing him.

“You’d better not tell Clea that, or else I’ll kick your butt!” Wanda proclaimed with a smirk. “And I’m a lot tougher than any ruffian you’ve met on the street.” She posed for effect, earning a hearty laugh from him—despite the lingering pain from the earlier brunt.

“Alright, alright—lips sealed, promise. I’ll be good.”

And he sure as hell meant it.


	2. Chapter 2

Warning(s): T, none

* * *

Doctor Strange was likely the most elusive man in Greenwich Village, Eddie Brock concluded as he, Wanda, and Clea were abruptly greeted with a man at the front door who appeared to be in his late-30’s, trim, classically handsome, and almost unassuming were it not for his flamboyant tunic and voluminous cape that seemed to have a life of its own. His face was kind and smiling as he greeted Wong with a clap on the back his old friend reciprocated in kind. It was when it was Clea’s turn that something odd stirred in him.

 

He didn’t know what it was, what to really compare it to. Like watching some old rerun of Leave It to Beaver on basic cable did the silvery-haired woman then loop her arms around Stephen’s neck, pulling him in for a romantic but chaste kiss. Clea and Stephen seemed absorbed into their own little world while Wanda pointedly coughed with a chipper smile, husband and wife departing from it sheepishly.

 

“You must be Edward Brock, the youth I heard so much about. How do you find my Sanctum so far, Mr. Brock?” Stephen asked indulgently with Clea on his arm, the woman smiling encouragingly despite the blond feeling increasingly under scrutiny.

 

“I, uh—it’s a cool place, Mr.—I, er—Dr. Strange. Real swanky, an’ all,” Eddie ventured uncertainly, figuring it was a neutral descriptor for the abode. And...it wasn’t really wrong. Never mind that most of the things contained here could kill him if he so much as breathed funny.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Brock.” Turning to Clea, he smiled gently. “Dear, would you be so kind as to continue the day’s studies with Miss Maximoff? I wouldn’t want to interrupt.”

 

Realizing what he likely had words to exchange with Eddie, Clea nodded and extended a gesture towards Wanda. “You heard him. We mustn’t fall behind now, Wanda,” Strange’s wife indicated with a bouncy sort of enthusiasm, her smile catching as Wanda complied without any complaint. Over her shoulder did she offer a reassuring smile towards Eddie before disappearing behind a heavy set of curtains into some unknown wing of the townhouse.

 

Feeling a chill creep up the nape of his neck, Eddie waited for whatever the thoughtful appearing Doctor was inclined to say with a faint sort of fluster.

 

To his surprise, it wasn’t anger or even inconvenience that met him. “I saw what happened earlier, lad. And I’m sorry you had an encounter with such churls, but I must warn you: my Sanctum is not exactly a house or mortal place of refuge. Not for long, at least.”

 

To that, Eddie answered in a bumbling rush: “Y’see, I wasn’t even tryin’ to get all up in y’garbage an’ all, Doc, but Wanda kinda just...let me in, y’know? ‘m not here to mooch off’a you or anything. Hell, I was just leavin’.”

 

As Eddie was determined to stride towards the door, he felt a weighty hand upon his shoulder. Gulping, he turned cautiously towards the sorcerer. “Frankly, you’re not in trouble; far from it. In fact, had you wish for temporary asylum, I would’ve granted it. However, that’s the least of my concerns. I had a Klyntar contained here, Mr. Brock. An alien being black as night that moves like mercury. I found it, abandoned, not too long ago. Their race depends on hosts, for without, they will perish. And you released that being just now, didn’t you?”

 

Eddie felt his hackles raise at that, wondering how the hell Strange knew so soon! Unless he had a live feed of CCTV somewhere inside? Even if it didn’t look like there was anything. “Look, I’m real sorry, Doc, but I just… I thought it was sufferin’, y’know? Said it was all locked up an’…”

 

At that, Stephen smiled contritely. “I didn’t have the Klyntar locked against its will, Mr. Brock. I gave it sanctuary much the way I did for you. Perhaps your paths crossing was entirely intentional.”

 

“Wait, you serious? Here I was thinkin’ I’d fucked up real bad or somethin’,” Eddie said in measured disbelief, blue eyes flicking towards Strange’s stormy grays.

 

“I wouldn’t say so, however, time is of the essence that the symbiote is found and contained—if not bonded, to you I imagine, seeing as it hasn’t even spoken to me. Not really.”

 

Stephen appeared briefly thoughtful, then snapping his fingers. “Unfortunately, I am unable to accompany you as I’ve affairs with the Dark Dimension, and Wanda is too much a novice to deal with such a thing, and Wong must keep watch over the Sanctum— Yes, that’s it! Clea shall be the one to help you, Mr. Brock. You seem quite friendly with each other already.”

 

“Whoa, whoa! Hang on a sec here! I never said anythin’ about being willing to help, let alone gettin’ that thing up my ass or whatever the hell else you had in mind!” Eddie railed suddenly, earning a surprised look from Stephen. Or not, seeing as he seemed to understand quite vividly.

 

“...No, you’re quite right. I apologize for presuming anything, lad. But at the very least, if the symbiote seems keenly interested in you, then you may very well be instrumental in attaining it back.”

 

At that, Eddie folded his arms crossly, but appeared largely thoughtful. “...Alright, say I do go through with this. And I bond with the guy. You just gonna let me off’a the hook? How do you know I’m not some ax-crazy murderer or whatever?”

 

At that, Stephen chuckled. “I have a feeling. That, and most ax murderers don’t ask such questions. They’re usually far more glib.” Though his chagrin still lingered, Eddie’s arms uncrossed and he pocketed his hands.

 

That was as good an answer as any, he guessed.

* * *

He had to admit, despite the oddness that proliferated the Sanctum Sanctorum—as he learned it was called—Clea Strange didn’t look half bad for them scouring the city. It was fairly late when they did, the woman having consulted the mysterious Orb of Agamotto that seemed like a three-dimensional earth that opened up like sunlight in Doctor Strange’s study, wishing them both well once the symbiote’s location could be ascertained. With them, they carried the same container that Eddie had foolishly released it from, glad that he wasn’t in the dog house at the very least.

 

“I understand it, really.” Eddie turned towards the older woman’s sudden musing. “Coming from a different world, here to Earth, and trying to live on it. I’ll admit, even to this day I always find myself receiving a bit of culture shock,” Clea admitted with a wry smile towards the young man.

 

“So, uh, where you from, Mrs. Strange?” Eddie broached politely as they passed another block, Clea taking pause.

 

“The Dark Dimension, home of one of one of my husband’s greatest enemies, Dormammu.” At that, Eddie’s brows shot up. “Who happens to be my uncle, too,” Clea added with a bit of an impish smile.

 

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh a bit at that. “Guess family reunions are real ball, huh?”

 

“You could say that,” Clea agreed with a genial laugh. “Oh, this place. We’re getting very close, Eddie!” The note of discovery in voice was more enthused than anything, but Eddie felt his heart quicken its race in his breast to a steady and tense canter.

 

It was down a dark alley the pair rounded, Clea seeming refulgent despite the dankness and damp concrete underfoot. Tensing, he couldn’t help but notice how parts of the dead end ahead seemed darker than others. The sorceress’ hand raised and an orb of light emitted from it, banishing the worst of it. “Goodness, those dumpsters sure do stink!”

 

As the sudden intrusion of light did a maw manifest from a blot of shadow and opalescent shapes like eyes peeled widely open, smile immediately churlish. Eddie reared back, but it was Clea was stepped forth with a genuine smile on her features. “What’s your name, little one?” she asked gently, even as the symbiote’s morass congealed together and slithered towards Eddie.

 

**Eddie, want to bond. Eddie!** the Klyntar keened at him, nibbling at his jean hem. This caused Eddie to tense up.

 

“It’s saying it wants to bond, uh—help?” Eddie asked of Clea through clenched teeth, stiffening when he heard Venom whine.

 

With that, Clea knelt by the symbiote despite its skittishness of her. Smiling sympathetically, she crooned towards it who allowed her to brush her digits on its crown. “There, there. Unfortunately, I don’t think Eddie’s ready for such a thing. But, if you come back with us, we’ll take care of you. Until you find the right person, alright?”

 

Even though he knew Clea’s heart was in the right place, treating the symbiote with more dignity than it’d otherwise be afforded, Eddie knew it was his responsibility. He’d started this whole mess, anyhow. “Look, I—it’s not that I don’t think you’re swell or anythin’, ‘s just...I’m just an ordinary guy. I don’t really know you all that well, and...I guess, if we do, I kinda wanna wait.”

 

Though the Klyntar was ultimately disappointed, it understood. Eager to have it happen someday, the symbiote rolled into the container it’d once been in and allowed Clea to promptly seal it, glad that it had concluded rather peacefully.

 

“Why don’t we get back, hm? I’m sure the little one is quite hungry, and you must be, too.” Clea smiled with a touch to Eddie’s shoulder, the blond reciprocating it shyly.

 

“Yeah...agreed. Guess it’d be nice t’ actually talk this out, y’know? And, uh...thanks, Clea.”

 

She beamed sunnily at him. “That’s the spirit!”


End file.
